


precious, like silver

by Poe



Series: Drabbles [3]
Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst Prompt Turned Fluffy, Drabble, Established Relationship, Fluff, Found Family, Geralt has emotions sometimes, I can't believe I get to say this but, M/M, Marriage Proposal, Podfic Available
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-27
Updated: 2020-05-27
Packaged: 2021-03-03 04:06:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 969
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24408517
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Poe/pseuds/Poe
Summary: It’s careful, at first, the way their dynamic shifts from bard and his Witcher to something more akin to lovers. It takes a lifetime, if not longer, for Geralt to stop being afraid for Jaskier, for Geralt to realise that Jaskier hasn’t aged a day and has no plans to leave.&for the angst prompt- "please don't cry" for geraskier
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Series: Drabbles [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/630734
Comments: 30
Kudos: 279
Collections: Abby's Witcher Collection





	precious, like silver

**Author's Note:**

  * For [jesuisgrace](https://archiveofourown.org/users/jesuisgrace/gifts).



It makes sense, after the decades they’ve spent travelling together, the years spent raising Ciri from a scared young girl to a beautiful young woman, fiercely deadly and gorgeous in equal measure, having lost none of her sweetness to time or monsters. Sometimes she’ll slip and call one or both of them dad, or father, and it’s happened often enough now that they’ve embraced it, a strange little family, passing through the lives of others.  
  
It’s careful, at first, the way their dynamic shifts from bard and his Witcher to something more akin to lovers. It takes a lifetime, if not longer, for Geralt to stop being afraid for Jaskier, for Geralt to realise that Jaskier hasn’t aged a day and has no plans to leave.  
  
Their first kiss comes after an argument, biting and cruel, but, Jaskier muses, it couldn’t have happened any other way, not really. Both their tongues are barbed and they know each other too well. But that can have its benefits, also.  
  
They sit by the fire, Ciri plucking out chords on Jaskier’s lute, Geralt letting Jaskier slide different rings onto his fingers like it’s a game, and Jaskier makes it a game, by holding each ring up to the fire light and turning it this way and that as though to admire it. Geralt is used to Jaskier’s ways by now, doesn’t even question it, just lets Jaskier have his fun, their shoulders bumping as Jaskier moves.  
  
Jaskier takes careful note of which ring fits best, and pockets it carefully aside from the others.  
  
They reach a larger town the next day and go their separate ways, Ciri looking for books to distract her and teach her everything she wishes to know and more, Geralt looking for contracts and to secure them a couple of rooms, and Jaskier? He heads to a small jeweller’s, windows glowing enticingly, gold sparkling within like a dragon’s hoard.  
  
Later, they regroup at the inn, and Jaskier, his coin purse now much emptier than it’d been previously, plays for the patrons, nervous energy turning to adrenaline that forces the songs forward, and soon he has enough coin to keep the three of them in drinks for the rest of the night if needs be.  
  
Ciri heads off to her room, flitting glances between Jaskier and Geralt before saying goodnight, and Geralt finishes up his ale and wipes the back of his mouth before gesturing upwards, only his eyes moving. Jaskier has long since learnt how to read him, and so he grabs his lute and they head off together, climbing creaking stairs.  
  
Geralt strips with a lack of modesty borne of familiarity, and is soon laid out on the bed watching Jaskier as he shucks off his own clothes, leaving just his under things, before kneeling and retrieving his secret from the pocket of his trousers. Geralt watches him with those golden eyes, trying to figure him out, brain always whirring away, even when it’s just the two of them.  
  
“This might be daft,” Jaskier says and holds the carefully crafted ring in the palm of his hand, feeling like he could be a monster for all it seems the silver of it is burning a hole there. “But I got to thinking.”  
  
“Your first mistake,” Geralt murmurs, but watches Jaskier intently, his body a little tenser, pulled in a little tighter.  
  
“I am trying to have a moment here, actually. I thought we might - look. I love you. You love me. We have a child. I’m normally better at talking than this but Geralt - what if - look. I got you this. It’s - dammit.”  
  
Jaskier climbs onto the bed and leans towards Geralt, not touching, but almost. He opens his hand to show the hammered silver ring, smooth as silk on the inside, but ragged enough to tear flesh on the outside. A beautiful weapon.  
  
Geralt’s eyes snap to it, then to Jaskier’s face, then back down to the ring.  
  
“I thought we could get married,” Jaskier says, and then adds, “if you wanted.”  
  
He can’t look at Geralt, can’t bear the silence that follows. This is going to be what breaks them. He’s asked for too much, stupid, stupid -  
  
There’s a harsh gasp, and Jaskier looks up, and Geralt is - crying.  
  
“Baby, baby, no,” Jaskier says, taking Geralt’s face in his hands and wiping away the tears with his thumbs. “Don’t cry.”  
  
Geralt tries to shake his head free, but Jaskier holds on tight, and rests his forehead against Geralt’s.  
  
“Silly Witcher,” Jaskier murmurs, and Geralt’s mouth makes a small smile. “Dammit, I love you.”  
  
He presses a kiss to Geralt’s lips, barely there but it’s a promise. Geralt keens when he pulls away, drawing Jaskier back in with the noise. The next kiss is something new, a reply, affirmation, Jaskier’s promise returned.  
  
Jaskier takes his hand and finds Geralt’s, finds the finger this ring was designed for, and slips it on like it’s a missing part of Geralt, come home finally. It shines against the pale of his skin, and the old scars that exist even on his knuckles. Jaskier wants to press a kiss there, but that can wait.  
  
He gathers Geralt to his chest, and Geralt lets him, lets himself be held. There’s power in this, Jaskier knows, in vulnerability. It’s a privilege. It’s like looking into the faces of the gods.  
  
There’s time enough, later, for Geralt to kiss him until he forgets where he is, to wring every syllable loose from him and for Jaskier to return the favour. There is time enough, later, to slip his fingers between Geralt’s and feel the new metal there.  
  
There’s time, enough, for so many things, so many adventures and stories and songs. But for the moment, let’s let them breathe. There’s time, after all.

**Author's Note:**

> Angst? Nope, we don't do that here.
> 
> Just a little drabble to keep things ticking over. I have the game downloaded now and my computer seems to be able to handle it, so I'll be playing it as soon as I have time! I'm really looking forward to it! 
> 
> My tumblr is jbbarnes.tumblr.com - always taking prompts so hmu, and my twitter is @imwiththebard because I can't resist a good pun.
> 
> All comments and kudos are appreciated - no comment is too silly or too short! I have a couple of other Witcher fics, but I'm working on a longer one but Geralt is so damn hard to write (which seems to be a general consensus). 
> 
> Thanks for reading, and stay safe. :)

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[Podfic] precious, like silver](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26453914) by [jesuisgrace](https://archiveofourown.org/users/jesuisgrace/pseuds/jesuisgrace)




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